One, Two, Three, Four
by TwistingKaleidoscope
Summary: "Remember this moment, Agent Townsend, when you realize you're madly in love with me." Abby/Townsend.


**Author's Note: **Originally, I wrote the introduction, saved it, forgot about it, wow, almost a year ago. My writer's block has had control of me for about that long. But yesterday, I sat myself down and went through old documents and was like I _need _to write something. And that's how this story was formed. I really do hope that you enjoy this!

**Summary: **_"Remember this moment, Agent Townsend, when you realize you're madly in love with me."_

* * *

**One, Two, Three, Four…**

* * *

_introduction_

"There's no reason to primp so much, Agent Cameron, because, in the end, you will be just another figment in someone's imagination."

Abby rolls her eyes and straightens her dress in the mirror before turning to face Townsend. She flashes him a wide grin. "Aw, shucks, Agent Townsend, I didn't know you thought of me as a dream."

He laughs humorlessly as she twirls back around. "I was thinking that you were more like a nightmare."

She laughs; it's a lovely sound. "Remember this moment, Agent Townsend, when you realize that you're madly in love with me."

He scoffs, which makes her laugh harder.

"You won't have to wait too long. Big, _tough _guys like you fall so easily." She moves to stand in front of him and smiles devilishly.

He recalls this moment later and regrets not being scared of that smile.

"Oh," she grabs her clutch, "I'm ready."

* * *

_one_

"Joe, there is someone on the elevator. Get out! Get out! Get out!" A moment passes without his response. "Now!"

When she continues to watch him on screen search the apartment, she jumps up and out of their hotel room. "Joe, can you hear me?!"

"Joe!" All she can hear is static. Their line had been disconnected.

She runs to the elevator and presses the 'up' button numerously.

"Stop, stop, stop, stop," she chants under her breath. Gratefully, a moment later, the elevator pings, and she listens to it slow to a stop.

She eases the tension in her shoulders, straightens her clothing, yanks the ponytail from her hair, and shakes her head back and forth. Then, she smiles. The doors open and the man inside asks, "Going up?"

He's dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit with a black tie. He's the definition of elegance. She steps inside. "I got off on the wrong floor." She giggles, "_So _embarrassing." His cologne chokes her, but she continues to wear her smooth smile. "Fourteenth floor, _please._"

He smiles politely back and leans over to press the button for her.

The smile fades from her face as the doors close.

* * *

_two_

"No, Rachel, it's not okay!" Abby sighs. "Yes, I understand that Abe is still recovering from Zimbabwe." She pauses, allowing her sister to speak. "I did not set off that explosion! It's not my fault."

There's another pause, and a muffled feminine voice could be heard through the phone. "Yes, I _will_ complain! I've made it perfectly clear that I cannot work with these arrogant Brits from MI6."

Pause.

"We both know that Abe is not arrogant."

Pause.

"We do not know that, Rachel! It was proven that I did not set off the explosion!"

Pause.

"Yes, I will be upset! If I have to-" She huffs. It's obvious that she had been interrupted. "No, my opinion of MI6 is just and very deserved! They are all arrogant pricks!"

"Excuse me." A man speaks at her left, and Abby turns quickly, holding her hand over the bottom of the phone.

"Yes, I'm sorry. I'll be done in a moment," she murmurs quickly before turning back around.

The man sighs, leans over her, and presses the switch to end the phone call.

Abby turns, shocked and angered, but she pauses once she sees him. "_You_?!"

He smiles at her cockily in response.

She glares, lowering her eyes at him. "How's the arm?" She spits.

"Healed," his smile fades.

"Wait." She tilts her head in thought. Then, it hits her. "You're MI6, aren't you?"

"Well," he stares at her. "I am arrogant and British, so I do fill the qualifications."

"Townsend," he juts out his hand.

"Cameron," she doesn't take it.

* * *

_three_

She lies beside him, breathing heavily. "Townsend, you okay?"

He coughs, his body shaking. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Good," she takes in another heavy breath. "I don't want to be blamed for another one of my partners being injured in a suspicious explosion."

He laughs. Later, if she asks, he'll say that he had just hit his head a little too hard when he fell. "Well," he coughs again. "You _actually _did cause this explosion."

"It was either that or be killed!" She exclaims but then frowns because it hurts. She thinks she's bruised a rib.

"Americans are so theatrical." She can practically _feel_ him rolling his eyes.

She frowns, "I repeat: explosion or death."

"Did you ever pause to think about death caused by explosion?"

"Well, we're alive now. So, you're welcome."

He pants, struggling to get his breathing back under control, "Barely."

There's silence for a moment.

"I didn't know that we were partners," he finally murmurs.

She holds her breath, stilling for a moment as she realizes that she's supposed to hate him and vice-versa. There's a long pause before she speaks, "We need to go to the hospital."

"Oh," he whispers, _"Definitely."_

* * *

_four_

"I do not understand why they continuously pair us together." He complains, frowning at her from his seat beside her on the airplane.

She scoffs and frowns with him. "You don't see me arguing." There's a moment of silence, and then she speaks again. "Does this mean we agree on something?"

They both consider it for a moment. Then, they look at each other.

"No," they speak simultaneously.

His face wrinkles into a grimace, and she groans.

They turn away quickly. The rest of the plane ride passes in silence.

* * *

_five_

"_Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,_" Abby mutters. She paces back and forth and yanks her fingers through her hair. "We've been compromised."

He shakes his head at her. "No, we're _about _to be compromised."

_"Really?"_ she looks at him incredulously. "You're correcting me now?"

He exhales sharply, "Well, if you hadn't-"

"You're blaming this on _me _now? Who's fault is it that we're in this situation?" She gestures around her wildly, talking about the small supply closet that they were hiding it. "I wanted you to wait in the ballroom, but _no._"

"This is my fault now?" He stares at her furiously. "Who said 'Townsend, that guy looks suspicious. Let's follow him.'?"

"I wanted to go _alone_, but _you _insisted on tagging along. _I _never would have been compromised."

"You gave me this cold!" He sniffles, slightly.

Her eyes widened. "I did not. I bet it was that slut, Brittany. You know that secretary-"

"Be careful, Cameron, you are beginning to sound jealous."

She takes in a deep breath, like she's about to yell, but she stops when she hears voices outside.

"I could have sworn someone was following me, Bob." A man speaks outside the little room that they're hiding in.

"Well, they couldn't have gotten far, Marshall," Bob tells them. "Hey, what's in that room?"

Abby and Townsend turn to look at each other.

"I'm definitely going to regret this," she whispers.

He frowns, "No more than me."

"If you make me sick…" she trails off, her nose upturned.

When the two goons open the door, they don't find a pair of spies, but a couple who had escaped from the party.

* * *

_six_

"It is so good to see you!" Grace Baxter grins. "I have not had a girls' day out in so long."

"I _know_!" Abby speaks excitedly. "I haven't had a manicure in so long. My poor cuticles hate me."

She looks at Grace as she speaks, but something catches her eye. At the cross walk right ahead of them, there was a very familiar-looking man. She shakes her head. It couldn't be, she thinks, but then he turns then as if he senses her eyes on him.

And it is.

_Townsend_.

"Abby, are you all right?" Grace asks, sensing her daze.

Abby nods, "Yes. I'm fine." She lowers her head slightly though and pulls her coat around her more tightly.

"Who's the man waiting at the cross walk?"

Abby looks at Grace and asks, "Who?" Instead of replying, however, Grace gives her this _look, _and Abby sighs.

"Wait," Grace pauses, examining the man again. "I know him…"

"Townsend."

Grace grins widely. "_Agent _Townsend."

"Don't you dare-"

But Grace is already a few steps in front of her. "Townsend?" She calls out, drawing the man's attention to her.

Townsend tenses. He's not a sociable man.

"Hey, Abby, isn't this the Townsend that you always talk about?" Grace asks, and it makes Abby wonder why they were friends.

Townsend doesn't speak; he remains rigid, uncomfortable in the spotlight.

A phone goes off. It's Grace's, of course, and she excuses herself to answer it.

There's an awkward silence. They hadn't talk since _that _night.

"Listen-"

"Ms. Cameron-"

They begin together. He clears his throat, awkwardly, "Go ahead."

"I hate you. You hate me. We did what we had to do. It's okay."

Townsend frowns, "Forget about it?" He asks.

"Yes, let's just forget about it."

He nods, "It should be easy. You were not a memorable kisser."

Abby scoffs and rolls her eyes. "You could use a few pointers yourself."

Grace comes back, "Sorry about that. What did I miss?"

"Nothing," Abby's eyes don't leave him. "Let's go."

* * *

_seven_

"Whew," Abby breathes in relief. The bad guys had long run in the other direction. "Got lucky there, didn't we?"

She turns to smile at Townsend, but she stops. He's slumped down against the wall behind him, and there's a splotch of red on the front of his white shirt that keeps growing bigger.

"Oh, no," she gasps. She had thought they had gotten away clean. He's fine but clearly in pain. "Townsend," she reaches forward to touch him, but he jerks away from her hand. She lets out a heavy breath, "I need to see it."

"Why wouldn't the bullet have just killed me?" He quips with a grimace.

"Ha-ha," she mutters and reaches her hand back out. She carefully lifts his shirt up. "You'll survive, but you are losing a long of blood." She hands him her jacket, "Here, put pressure-"

He takes it but glares at her, "I know. And I'm losing a lot of blood, am I? How on earth would I know? In addition to the absence of blood on my shirt, I certainly do not feel the least bit woozy."

"It's good to know that the bullet hasn't affected your sarcasm."

"Just go get the car." He orders. He presses the jacket against his wound and groans.

"I am kind of disappointed though…" She trails off as she turns to walk away. She leaves him but not before calling out over her shoulder, "I always thought that if someone shot you, that it would be me."

He laughs forcefully. It hurts. "Love, even if you had taken a shot, you would have never hit me! I have seen you shoot!"

* * *

_eight_

"You two make such good partners," Townsend's boss, Emilie, gushes while Abby looks out the window in pure boredom.

Abby's boss nods in agreement. "This is why, to ease up the process a bit from going back in forth in your respective countries, we are giving you these badges along with these ribbons for such a dedicated service of your respective countries."

Emilie hands them each a badge and then a ribbon. Abby fights an eye roll.

"Wait, MI6?" Abby wrinkles her nose at the badge.

Townsend does the exact same, "CIA?"

"Yes, because of your extended service to each other's countries as well, we are giving you these badges to make things run a little _smoother _in the future."

Abby glares at Townsend. This was his fault.

"Agent Cameron, you are now dismissed." Abby's boss murmurs, and she moves quickly to leave. "_Wait,_ the ribbon!" Abby hands him the ribbon, and he nods in thanks.

"You too, Agent Townsend," Emilie tells him, and he dutifully hands her the ribbon before fleeing with Abby.

Once outside the room, they turn to face each other.

"If you hadn't left me in that holding cell for _twenty-four hours_ this wouldn't have happened." She tells him furiously.

"We were not punished," he shrugs. "I do not see a problem."

Abby glares at him, "But now, I have a badge for _MI6._"

"Yes," he nods, "That is a problem. MI6 is much too good for you."

She rolls her eyes. "The CIA is full of too many talented people to accept you."

"Apparently not, after all, it did accept you." He snorts. "Also, I only left you in the holding cell because the last time I tried to enter Langley, you claimed I was following you, and I was tackled to the ground by five giants."

"You were fine."

"Two of my ribs were broken!" He exclaims angrily.

She huffs, "I had to pee in a cup. Do you know how hard that is to do for a girl?"

Their eyes meet; their chests heaving in anger.

"I must go-"

"See ya-"

They both say at the same time before they dart off in opposite directions.

* * *

_nine_

"Abby, think fast," she whispers quickly to herself as she nervously runs her hand through her hair. "Townsend, can you hear me?" She asks through the comms unit. "If you can, I'm coming."

"That's a _shame,_" she can hear him say finally on the other end. "A real _shame_." He was using their safe word. He _never _used that word, and neither did she. They were both too proud to use it, even if they were dangerously close to getting in trouble, but for him to use it now, it only meant things were not good. At all.

"I'm coming."

The meeting was taking place in a warehouse. How cliché, she had thought at first, but now as she races towards the entrance, she's glad for it. No security to lie her way through. No cameras. Plenty of places to hide.

Once she reaches the door, she slows to a walk. She shakes her head, runs her fingers through her hair, and pops open a few buttons on her blouse. The top of her lacy bra pokes out. She hikes up her shirt, grateful that a call girl and lawyers are often found in the same clothes.

"Baby," she calls out confidently into the room. "Baby…?" She calls again, looking around until she spots Townsend.

"The car was getting chilly." She pouts. "You could have left it running from me." She pauses in her tracks when she sees guns pointed at Townsend, who just tilts his head slightly at her appearance as if trying to figure out her plan.

She finally stumbles closer to them. "_What? _What going on?!" She exclaims, sticking to her cover.

"Get out of here, doll," the man in charge tells her. Someone had watched too many mobster movies, she thinks.

"But-but-" She stutters and pretends to be frozen in her place.

"Go!" The man walks up to her and screams in her face. "I don't have anything against you, and I wouldn't want a pretty little face like yours to be ruined by a nasty little bullet."

"Funny," she snorts, grabbing him once she's close enough and turning him to face his goons with the guns. He's a little man, and for that, she's grateful. There's a knife in her blouse, and she quickly grabs it, putting it to his throat. "It's about to be your face that's ruined."

She moves back, away from the three people in front of her. "Give me him, and you can have your boss."

"Yes! Yes!" The man in her arms exclaims in fear.

Townsend walks towards her, and she moves closer to the two goons. Just as Townsend moves to stand beside her, she pushes the man away from her and into the big men in front of them, causing the three bad guys to lose their balance and fall to the floor. She turns then, grabs Townsend's arm, and yells, "Run!"

They pause once they're outside. "Abby, where is the-?"

She looks at him, "I have no clue." The car was gone. "I told you this was the worst possible place to have this meeting."

"No, you did not-"

But the sound of a gun going off interrupts him, and she jumps on him, pushing him to the ground behind a trash dump as bullets whirl pass them. "I just saved your life."

He rolls his eye, "Please."

She laughs at him, ignoring the sound of gunfire around them. "Remember this day and Buenos Aires, Townsend." She pauses for a moment to look at him. "I know I will."

He groans.

"That's right. You are _never_ going to live this down."

* * *

_ten_

The sun was setting on the meadow in front of them, but she was still sitting there, on the grave of a friend whose life she should have saved.

Her fingernails and hands were caked in a mixed of dirt and blood. They hurt, but she ignored the pain. No tears spilled down her face. She didn't deserve to cry.

A figure appears suddenly beside her, but she doesn't lift her eyes from her hands.

"Abby," he whispers. It's the first time that he's ever called her by her first name, but it doesn't register. "We need to be leaving."

She doesn't respond, just continues to think about Rome and the things that she should have done.

"I'm not leaving him again."

He sighs and sits down beside her.

"You need to tell Rachel."

Her eyes widen, and she finally looks at him. "What am I supposed to say?"

"What do you think you should say?" He asks, but instantly regrets it.

"I killed your husband," She chokes with words full of guilt.

Townsend sighs and puts an arm around her shoulders. "Abby-"

"It's my fault he's dead." She whimpers then, and years of concealed emotions bubble to the surface. "My fault," she whispers to the ground.

It sounds like an apology.

A single tear slides down her face.

He pulls her closer into his chest and murmurs, "A little longer, then."

* * *

_eleven_

"He's leaving today, you know." Her sister whispers towards her over breakfast. She eyes the tall, dark, and handsome man who's standing across the room.

Abby lifts her eyes from her waffle and whispers back, "I know."

"Right after breakfast," Rachel adds in a tone that insinuates something Abby doesn't want to think about.

Abby ignores her and stabs pieces of her waffle with her fork. She frowns.

Rachel eyes her suspiciously. "He dropped everything to come here when you called."

"He was assigned here."

"Not originally. He asked to be assigned to this."

Abby sighs and stands. "I'm done." She grabs her place. "Have a nice day, Rachel."

She catches him in the hallway when she leaves the dining hall.

"Come to see me off?" he asks with raised brows.

She looks at him and frowns, "I don't do goodbye."

He nods. He knows that, maybe more than anyone. After a moment, he gestures towards the dining hall. "Good luck," he murmurs, "These students are absolute brats."

She laughs. "Maybe you're a bad teacher."

"Maybe?" he looks at her incredulously. "Of course, I was." He pauses for another moment, in thought. "Is this permanent?"

Abby shakes her head, "I don't do permanent, either."

He nods and turns to go. He doesn't have a suitcase in his arms. He walks a few steps and turns around.

"How do you feel about kisses?"

She takes a step forward and shrugs, but before she can open her mouth to speak, she's in his arms, and his lips are on hers.

When they break apart, she breathes, "Eh, I think I can deal with them," and kisses him again.

"I don't love you." He murmurs into her hair, and she laughs. "I extremely dislike you, actually."

"Good," She kisses him again, "Because I absolutely despise you."


End file.
